


ain't no nice guy (after all)

by Potrix



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Bonding, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Have a Good Relationship, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Coffee Shops, Diners, First Meetings, Gay Billy Hargrove, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Alternating, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Post-Canon, Soft Billy Hargrove
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29186847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/pseuds/Potrix
Summary: When they pull into the gravel lot that serves as parking space forLinette’s, Steve does an honest to God double-take. Because, first and most important, it’s not actually calledLinette’sanymore. The front has been repainted in a dark, smooth red, and right above the door hangs a sign proclaiming it to beThe Rockin’ & Roastin’ Cafe and Dinerin big, bold letters.Which makes sense, Steve thinks dazedly, as he follows the kids inside. The music’s not loud enough to bother people, but it’s definitely noticeable, and not what he would have expected to be playing in an old, sleepy downtown diner.Motörhead. Huh.Or, alternatively; Steve still struggles to adjust to a Hawkins without something supernatural lurking behind every corner, Billy has his own issues (and a mouthy teenager) to deal with, and yet, somehow, they manage to be not entirely terrible for each other. Who'd have thought?
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & Maxine "Max" Mayfield
Comments: 24
Kudos: 90





	1. Steve

**Author's Note:**

> Yup, it's me. Back again after nearly a year. With a new pairing. In a new fandom. Oh, well. 
> 
> Look, I don't know what happened, either. I came across the season 4 trailer again, started reading Billy/Steve fics, and boom. Next thing I knew, I was a few beers in, and writing about these two assholes falling in love. What can you do? 
> 
> This is gonna be mostly fluffy, apart from some (implied) past bullshit. Probably around 10 or so chapters, but don't hold me to that. It's not like I, the author, know what's going on.
> 
> Let's all just enjoy the ride.

▪ i thought that i was living out the perfect life

but in the lonely hours when the truth begins to bite

i thought about the times when i turned my back and stalled

i ain't no nice guy after all ▪

“Okay,” Steve has to raise his voice to be heard over the excited chatter and yelling coming from the backseat, “where to, kidlets?” 

Next to him, in the passenger seat, Dustin mouths, “Kidlets,” like it’s the greatest insult that’s ever been directed at him, shooting Steve a betrayed look. Steve ignores him. Instead, he clicks his fingers and lets out a loud, sharp whistle, finally drawing the attention from the hooligans in the back of the car. 

“Dude,” Lucas winces, rubbing at his ear, while Mike just glares at Steve, clearly unhappy about the interruption. 

“Now,” Steve starts again, eyebrows raised impatiently. “Where am I dropping you off?” 

It’s Max who pipes up with, “The diner down on Main Street.” Then, remembering that, unlike her friends, she has some basic manners, tacks on, “Please?” 

Steve likes Max. She’s a cute kid, not exactly shy but a little reserved, at least around him. Definitely opinionated, though. Fierce. Keeping the boys in line, for the most part, with El’s help. He wonders, sometimes, what it would’ve been like, if she’d arrived in Hawkins a year or so earlier, during the height of all the supernatural bullshit that went down. He’s pretty relieved that she missed the whole drama, honestly. There’s enough trauma to go around already. 

“What, _Linette’s_?” Steve asks as he steers the car out of the Hawkins High parking lot, and onto the road leading downtown. “That’s still around?” 

_Linette’s_ had been on its last legs back when Steve was in middle school, the leather of the booths ripped in places and perpetually sticky, and at least half the lights in the place always flickering ominously. The town’s kids, himself included, had readily abandoned it in favour of the newly opened pizza place a block away a few years back. He hasn’t been there since.

“My brother works there,” Max explains with a shrug.

Next to her, Lucas is nodding, and grinning from ear to ear. “Free fries for life, man!” 

Max elbows him in the ribs, but when their eyes meet, they both blush. 

Steve holds back a snort. Barely. 

The kids go back to bickering about something, Dustin turned around in his seat to loudly voice his disagreement, and Steve leaves them to it, focused on the road. 

It’s been Jonathan and, sometimes, Mrs Byers driving them around lately, what with Steve working a fulltime job, now. He’d been pretty clueless at first, about what to do with himself after high school. College had been out of the question, not only because of his grades but also because he couldn’t stomach the idea of sitting in school for another three years at least. 

He’d interned at his dad’s accounting firm for a few weeks, but the less said about that, the better.

He’s still convinced that Hopper had just felt bad for him, after everything they’d all been put through, and had eventually been fed up with Steve bugging him for answers none of them actually had, and that’s why he’d decided to put him to work one day. It had mostly been reorganising and cleaning those first few weeks, and Steve won’t ever admit it, but the monotonous, repetitive tasks had actually helped him settle his constantly whirring thoughts, and had allowed him to finally, months after they’d closed the last gateway to the Upside Down, take a step back from the whole mess and breathe again. 

And then, before Steve had fully realised it, he’d been enrolled in computer classes—thankfully only twice a week—and working at the station’s front desk, answering the phone, sorting files and trying to convince old Mrs Wesley that, no, the neighbourhood kids accidentally throwing their baseball into her yard wasn’t a reason for the Chief to come and arrest them. 

Like he’s a productive member of society, or something. 

When they pull into the gravel lot that serves as parking space for Linette’s, Steve does an honest to God double-take. Because, first and most important, it’s not actually called _Linette’s_ anymore. The front has been repainted in a dark, smooth red, and right above the door hangs a sign proclaiming it to be _The Rockin’ & Roastin’ Cafe and Diner_ in big, bold letters.

Which makes sense, Steve thinks dazedly, as he follows the kids inside. The music’s not loud enough to bother people, but it’s definitely noticeable, and not what he would have expected to be playing in an old, sleepy downtown diner. 

Motörhead. Huh. 

Curious, Steve glances around, taking in all the changes. The old, nasty salad bar has been torn out, thank fuck, and replaced with several comfy looking armchairs placed strategically around two small coffee tables littered with comic books and board games. Behind the chairs, there’s a huge bookshelf filled with, from the looks of it, everything from last year’s middle school textbooks to, of all things, romance novels. 

Apart from the new reading and playing nook, the layout’s pretty much the same. The booths, overhauled and clean for probably the first time in a decade, the bar with some new stools, and the huge window to the kitchen behind it. 

The only familiar thing, or rather person, in the whole place is Gladys, who’s been waitressing here for as long as Steve can remember.

“Have a good day at school, sweetheart?” Gladys smiles at Max, brushing a hand over her hair on her way to one of the tables. “Hugo’s on kitchen duty right now, but your brother’s around here somewhere. Go have a seat, everyone, and I’ll bring you some snacks as soon as I get ‘round to it, all right?”

Steve’s original plan had been to chauffeur the gang to wherever they usually spent their free time nowadays, before heading home to take full advantage of getting off early for once. Have a couple of beers, watch some mindless TV, order in and pass out on the couch eventually. Living the high life. 

No way in hell is he leaving now, though.

Max and Lucas claim one side of the booth in the back corner and, after Steve glares at him, Mike squeezes in next to them with a huff so Steve and Dustin can take the other side. Gladys brings them cokes and a few orders of cheesy fries a couple of minutes later, and the kids dig in with gusto. 

“So,” Steve asks, as casually as he can manage, “you said your brother works here, Max?”

Max hums and swallows before explaining, “In the kitchen, yeah. He likes cooking.” 

“He’s also turning this dump into something nice again,” Lucas chimes in. 

Dustin nods eagerly. “Yeah, man, it’s awesome. He even lets us play D&D!” 

“It is pretty cool,” Mike mutters, grimacing as if it pains him to admit it. 

Steve turns to arch a brow at Dustin. “Let’s you?” 

“He’s rented the whole building,” Max says. She takes a sip of her coke, a small, sad smile tugging at her mouth. “We live upstairs, too.” 

Steve can’t help but frown at that. “What about Linette?” He would’ve heard if she’d passed. Probably. 

“Down in Florida,” comes a voice from behind Steve, startling him into whirling around. “Says her knees don’t agree with the shitty Indiana weather no more.” 

Max scowls half-heartedly at the newcomer. “Don’t be an asshole, Billy.” 

Billy, who Steve assumes must be Max’s brother, smirks but holds up his hands, the universal offering of peace. “Calm down, squirt.”

He slides into the seat next to Steve, seemingly amused at Max’s pouting, knee and side pressed against Steve’s in the narrow space. 

Steve blinks at his jean-clad thigh for a second, before glancing up. Which, honestly, isn’t much better. The tight wife beater hides practically nothing of Billy’s defined chest, and leaves his toned, tanned arms free for Steve’s eyes to get stuck on. He catches himself after a moment, cheeks heating, and finally takes a look at Billy’s face. 

Which, yeah. Big mistake. 

Startlingly blue eyes are already watching him back, looking him up and down assessingly. 

“Uh,” Steve says, like a complete dumbass. 

Billy snorts. “Eloquent, gotta admit.” 

“Billy!” Max snaps at him. 

Billy laughs. 

He's pretty, sure, Steve thinks. But also a total dick.


	2. Chapter 2: Billy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy's POV. And we learn a little bit more about his and Max's past. Also; sibling bonding, the Hargrove-Mayfield way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd warn you about the incoming swearing, but it's Billy, so. You know.

_“And how is Maxine adjusting? Are her sessions going well?”_

She fucking hates them, Billy doesn’t say, though he can’t help but roll his eyes at the question. How the hell is forcing an angry thirteen-year-old to spend an hour of her free time every week talking to a stranger who’s getting all up in her personal business supposed to go, according to these clowns? 

“Hasn’t missed a single one yet,” is what he settles on evasively, hoping it’s enough. Then he offers, “And she’s doing, uh, some extracurricular sh—stuff, too. Like, science club, at school.”

_“So she’s been socialising with kids her age? That’s very good! Has she kept up with her journaling as well?”_

Billy almost snorts at that, but manages to turn it into a weird, choked-off cough at the last moment. He has to lean back to be able to see around the corner into the living room and check, but yup, the thing’s still where he’d last seen it, lying crumpled under the coffee table where Max had thrown it in a fit after declaring the whole writing thing to be really, really dumb. 

“Sure thing,” Billy lies, and wedges the phone receiver between his ear and shoulder. He stirs the bubbling sauce on the stove with one hand, and grabs a few spices out of the cabinet with the other. “Every Sunday night, like clockwork.” 

_“Wonderful, that’s wonderful! We’ll have a look at it together during her next check-in.”_

Well. Shit.

He’ll have to remember to accidentally forget the damn thing when they drive up to Indianapolis in a few weeks. 

“We’ll make sure to bring it along.” 

_“Excellent! I’m also going to need the enrollment form from her high school, as well as—”_

Billy tunes out after that, and closes his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths, like his own shrink had tried to teach him. It doesn’t do much against the constant ball of white hot anger sitting firmly lodged in his chest, but it does help with the simmering annoyance about having to make nice with their social worker lady. 

They’ve been lucky, he knows that, even if it’s hard to remember sometimes, considering their whole situation. He’s sure it shouldn’t have been this easy for him to gain custody of Max at barely eighteen, especially as someone not legally related to her at all. There should’ve been more inspections, hearings, some other shit to make sure he was fit to take care of and raise a traumatised little girl after what both of them had just been through at that point. 

The authorities had been pretty eager to keep the whole story on the hush-hush, though, probably hoping to sweep it all under the rug without making themselves look completely incompetent. They’d almost seemed relieved, even, after Billy had sold the old house and approached them about moving away from California, out of their jurisdiction. 

There’d been some conditions, sure, but none of them too constricting or demanding. He’d planned on settling somewhere relatively close to the remaining Mayfields, anyway, for Max’s sake, and while neither Max nor him are exactly happy about the counseling bullshit, it’s bearable if it means they can live their lives relatively undisturbed, otherwise. 

Hawkins might be boring as fuck, but it’s only a two-hour drive away from Indianapolis and Susan’s sister, while being different enough from Cali that they’re not constantly reminded of all they’ve lost. 

_“—Hargrove? Mr Hargrove?”_

“Yes, sorry. I’m here.” Billy clears his throat, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’ll have it ready next month.” 

He’s saved from further conversation by Max’s arrival. He snatches her by the back of her overalls when she goes to slink off to her room after trying to sneak a meatball from the stove, ignoring her scowl. 

“Maxine just got home, actually,” he tells the social worker, “I can put her on?”

Max takes the phone, glaring, and mouths, “I hate you!”

Billy flips her off, but hands over one of the meatballs as a peace offering. 

By the time Max finishes the call, Billy’s got dinner on the table. He’s pouring their waters when Max plops down in her chair with a huff, arms crossed over her chest. She starts eating after a minute, though, with one last nasty look in Billy’s direction, shovelling spaghetti into her mouth like she’s starving. 

“You’re an animal,” Billy tells her. 

She catches the balled up paper towel he tosses at her, but continues to chew obnoxiously with her mouth open. “Wonder where I got it from.”

Billy’s, “Shut the fuck up,” lacks all heat. Max smirks at him in victory. 

They finish their food in companionable silence, which isn’t unusual for them. What is definitely out of the ordinary, however, is when Max carries her plate into the kitchen without Billy snapping at her to do so. Billy shoots her a highly suspicious look when she picks up the dish towel, carefully avoiding his gaze, but doesn’t mention it as he plugs the sink and turns on the water. 

“Lucas asked me to swimming with him and the others tomorrow,” Max starts, a few minutes later. She’s still not looking at Billy, eyes fixed firmly on the fork in her hand. “There’s a lake in the woods everyone hangs out at during the summer.” 

Billy makes a vague noise for her to continue when she hesitates after that. They’ve got a silent agreement that he’s not going to try and parent her, as long as she keeps him in the loop as to what she’s up to. It’s worked well for them so far, and the fact that she feels the need to actually talk about her plans with him doesn’t bode well. 

“Everyone’s coming. Jonathan’s girlfriend is home from college, so she’ll be there as well. Mike’s sister, Nancy,” Max rambles nervously, still fiddling around with the stupid, long since dry fork. “And Steve’s going to be there, too, and—”

Billy grimaces at that, which Max clearly misinterprets entirely.

“Oh, come on! You don’t even know him!” she argues hotly, now finally glancing up at Billy. She’s scowling, again, brows pulled together in exasperation. “I know he looks like a dweeb, okay? But he’s kinda nice, once you get to know him. You’d totally like him, if you weren’t such an asshole and actually gave him a chance!” 

She’s right about the dweeb thing, sure, because who the fuck actually, voluntarily wears polo shirts? That’s not the problem though, oh no. The problem is that Steve looks hot as the sun despite the stupid fucking polo shirts. His eyes go all crinkly when he laughs at the dumb shit the kids always go on about, and even his weird as shit sytle of dressing can’t hide that he’s built. 

And his hair? God, the hair. 

“Well,” Billy murmurs, scrubbing viciously at some burnt piece of onion sticking to the skillet, “I highly doubt it.” 

Max rolls her eyes at him, and sighs dramatically. “Whatever you say, dumbass.” Then she winces, as she obviously remembers why she’s being so weird right now. “Anyway, like I said, everyone’s coming, but Mike’s parents are going out of town and are taking the car. Steve’s got his, and Jonathan’s gonna borrow his mom’s, but—”

“But you need me to drive you,” Billy finishes for her, the pieces finally clicking together. 

Max smiles guiltily. “And make some of your pasta salad. Everyone’s bringing something!” she insists when Billy fixes her with a dirty look, “And I can’t cook! You like cooking! Please, Billy, come on!”

Billy pushes the dripping skillet at her. “What if I don’t want to spend my day off with a bunch of little nerds?” 

“You can hang out with Jonathan,” Max continues, undeterred. “You like him.” 

That is a gross overstatement, since Billy’s spoken to Jonathan maybe three times, total, mostly about picking up and dropping off various kids. He doesn’t not like the guy, but he also doesn’t know him. Or his girlfriend, or stupid Steve with his stupid, ugly shirts. 

“What do I get out of this, huh? Apart from the apparently stellar company?” he asks, mostly joking, but it makes Max lower the towel, an unexpectedly somber expression settling on her freckled face. 

“I don’t know, Billy, maybe some friends?” She shakes her head, and then shrugs, picking up another plate to dry. “We’ve been here for almost two months, you know, and you never really talk to anyone unless you have to.”

Billy’s first impulse is anger. Anger, because shit, this isn’t how he’d imagined his life to go, either. Stuck in some podunk town in the middle of fucking Indiana, freshly nineteen and responsible for a mouthy teenager with a serious attitude problem, and trying to keep both their heads above water, somehow. 

Away from the few friends he’d had back home, away from the anonymity of the big city, and the safety that came with being just one of hundreds, of thousands exactly like him. 

This whole mess isn’t Max’s fault, either, though. And neither’s the fact that she’s better at adjusting than he’s turned out to be. 

Max is looking at him with wide eyes full of concern. It kills the last of his irritation, and he hangs his head to get away from it, letting out a defeated breath. “When do we leave?” 

“I told Lucas we could pick up him and his sister,” Max says, her excitement almost palpable now that she knows she’s won him over, “so we should probably leave around eight? Eight fifteen? They live pretty far out.”

So much for sleeping in. 

“Go do your homework, or something,” Billy grunts, shooing her away, but then, once he remembers, yells after her, “Or write something in that stupid journal!”

He doesn’t need to see her to know Max is rolling her eyes again, hard, when she yells back, “Okay, yeah, sure!” 

So, after finishing with the dishes, instead of chilling on the couch like he absolutely deserves, Billy puts on water for the pasta, and starts chopping veggies. He’s gonna put a shitload of tomatoes in this salad, and watch Max be disgusted by it tomorrow. It’ll make him feel better. 

On a whim, Billy also grabs some flour to start on a batch of cookies. Not as a bribe for a bunch of people he doesn’t give a shit about liking him, though. Just because he feels like it. 

He’s brushing his teeth an hour later when the bathroom door opens, and Max slips inside, already in her PJs. Billy quirks a brow at her in the mirror, and then nearly chokes on his mouthful of toothpaste when Max darts in to hug him tightly, just for the briefest of moments, before nearly running back out of the room with a quiet, “Goodnight, Billy.” 

Damn it.

Now he almost feels bad about the stupid tomatoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. Guardianship (probably) doesn't work this way. Most of the time. But it does here, because I said so.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I totally like Mike! I just, while writing, remembered how much he annoyed me at first during the last season. I think you can tell, hahahaha. And I totally stole the diner's name from Aerosmith's Joey Kramer's former restaurant. It was just too good to pass up.
> 
> Go check out my other [work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/works), or come over and say hi on [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com).


End file.
